Locked out, dead phone, and the cops!?

You’ve got to be kidding me
.
I had closed my eyes and rested my head against the unyielding door. How could the key work in the dead bolt, but not the bottom lock? I didn’t know it was an actual possibility when the woman from Wal-Mart warned that sometimes keys don’t work and I needed to keep the receipt just in case.
.
My phone rang and I fished it out of my purse. The screen was dimmed and the red blinking light informed me the battery would soon die, great another problem. It was “Home” calling. Well home is two hours away, so they really couldn’t help me, but they could probably get a hold of someone that could.
.
“Hello,” my mom said.
“Hi mom, my phones dying and my spare key isn’t working, so I’m locked out. And I really have to go pee.” Sometimes I just blurt out everything I’m thinking in stressful situations or under the influence of major caffeine.
“Oh, do you want me to call your brother?”
“Yes, thank you.”
.
We hung up and I jingled, jimmied, and seriously begged God that the key would work this time. No luck.
.
My breath came out in puffs of white and I seriously regretted wearing a dress today. Even with thick tights, the cold air seeped in, as the night air dropped in degrees.
.
I bent down to collect the contents of my purse. I had dumped them all over the front porch searching for the other spare key. I had made two just in case I lost one in the future. It was probably sitting on the kitchen table where I left it.
.
I also threw my phone into the purse since it had died and headed to the curb. My brother would show up soon with the third key or my sister would show up to rescue me, again. I waited and waited, but after an eternity 20 minutes of waiting I thought I should make a phone call.
.
My downstairs neighbor’s car was parked at the curb and I could hear the TV, so I knocked on her door. I took a step back and prepared a speech, trying not to sound as stupid as I probably seemed, but she didn’t answer. Maybe she couldn’t hear, so I knocked a little louder, but still no answer.
.
I walked to the small complex across the street and played eeny, meeny, miny, moe with the doors. A middle aged woman answered the selected door in red pajama bottoms, a big doggy t-shirt, and pink slippers. Even though I was super angry I had a real smile on my face.
.
Explaining the situation, she let me in and I dialed the only two numbers I know by heart. The down side of having a cell phone is you don’t memorize numbers.
.
My sister didn’t pick up and I really didn’t want to bug my friend, but called anyways. She answered, but I could tell she had been sleeping, so I just told her I’d call her later.
.
The woman saw my frustration and was probably afraid for her phone in my angry hands, so she offered to plug in my cell phone.
.
I called my mom and she told me she thought I got in. Are you serious? If I didn’t call you back wouldn’t you be worried. I wanted to take all my frustrations out on her, but it wasn’t really her fault.
“What do you want me to do,” she asked.
“Nothing,” I said.
“Okay.”
“I’m not mad at you, I’m just in someone’s house and super frustrated. I’ll call you later.”
.
After hanging up with her, I called my sister again, but no answer, so I called her husband Kevin.
“Domino’s pizza”
“Kevin, I need to talk to Mary.”
“Mary? I don’t know who you’re talking about. Would you like to hear our specials?”
“Can you just give her the phone?”
“Is it an emergency because she’s reading to Emily?” Emily is my four year old niece.
“Yes, it’s an emergency.”
“You’re always in an emergency, how extreme is the emergency?”
“KEVIN!”
.
When I got off the phone with Mary, I declined the cup of tea from the serial killer nice neighbor, and went outside to wait for Kevin. She probably wasn’t dangerous in the least bit, but you never know.
.
I was waiting at the curb, again, when I noticed a man walking down the side walk. Great! I didn’t want any creepy conversation on top of everything else. Maybe he’d just walk bye. As he got closer, his outfit became familiar. GREAT, it was a cop.
.
He walked over to me and asked if I was knocking on the downstairs apartment. She called the cops, really? I guess her door doesn’t have a peep hole and she was a little scared. I should have called out to her, but I don’t even know what her name is. What was I going to say? Hey downstairs neighbor, it’s me your upstairs neighbor.
.
“Yes, I live upstairs,” I told the cop. I explained the situation, again. I hated tonight. The cold, the door, the neighbor, the four letter key, and especially Wal-Mart for giving it to me, but most of all I hated myself, for not trying it in the lock before I left my house this morning.
.
The cop waited with me until my brother-in-law, Kevin, the jokester, showed up. I think the cop was just bored. He probably thought it was going to be a bogus call and then had some adrenalin when he saw someone standing outside, and then became super bummed when he realized it was the idiot girl who lived upstairs.
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He asked me about living in apartments, noisy neighbors, and the neighborhood. I think he was fishing for information about the last disturbance call made on this address, but that’s a different story.

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